The Fall - By Chana Keefer

CHAPTER Twenty-Eight

Rafe



It was a strange new frontier for Rapha. As soon as he thought he understood the parenting process, the rules would change. The baby would be wakeful all night or he would cry for no obvious reason or he would have a day when he only desired Eve followed by a time of screaming unless attached to Rapha’s broad back. He was a needy child, much more challenging than Abel and Cain had been, even considering the fact that since they were twins, the workload had been double.

Thankfully, the baby’s challenges were not physical. The mothering instinct had brought the miracle of Eve’s milk so he was well fed from the start. But Rapha knew exactly how the baby felt. He too missed Sheatiel. There were days he wished he could join the child in wailing at the top of his lungs but there was no time for this indulgence. Mere survival was too demanding. Their patchwork family lived a nomadic life, following the flocks and milder weather and Rapha’s limitless knowledge enabled them to thrive even though they longed for the stability of their former life. But they agreed the child’s heritage must be hidden. Thus their home was a portable shelter of animal skins, and the sum of their wealth was the few items they could carry on their backs. Luckily, Rapha could carry as much as the strongest beast of burden, so they knew no lack. Occasionally they could milk a wild goat or discover eggs, but the addition of stock animals for a constant supply was impossible. Even with the ability to move at a moment’s notice, danger loomed.

When the baby was only three weeks old that fact was made all too clear. After a restless night of enduring the child’s crying (none of Rapha’s salves or prayers soothed him) he took the child outside their shelter where fresh air, night noises and the sight of bright stars finally lulled the babe to sleep. There, wrapped in his warm cloak and listening to the lullaby of the baby’s peaceful breathing, Rapha too slumbered. The sun was already in its second hour when he was shocked to wakefulness by the plodding lope of an approaching camel.

Berating himself for his lapse in judgment, Rapha remained seated as the rider approached. Every detail of the man’s clothing and appearance was cataloged as Rapha assessed this possible threat, from the fine weave of the man’s brilliantly dyed cloak to the well-fed state of his camel. The stranger was unaccompanied and his emotions exuded intense agitation and fear, not a recipe for disaster, even so…. “Eve!”

She came, bleary-eyed and startled, to retrieve the still-slumbering baby and then reentered the shelter just as the man brought his camel to a halt. Though his eyes glanced her way, the man’s attention centered on Rapha.

“Greetings!” Rapha’s smile did nothing to decrease the stranger’s unease.

“Good morrow!” The man answered without dismounting. “My son said he heard a baby’s cry during the night as he kept the flocks and he reported where you lodged. I hope you are refreshed,” the words were cordial but the true reason for the man’s visit was screaming in Rapha’s mind.

The man got right to the point. “Fierce men are approaching. My sons who roam our borders saw them.” He wiped a trembling hand across his brow. “I come to extend protection.”

“What are the enemy’s numbers?” Rapha asked.

“More than one hundred, well-armed.” The man hesitated. “It is reported some stand as tall as trees.”

“What are your defenses?”

“High earthen walls and the strength of my sons.”

Rapha continued questioning, though already convinced the man’s cause was hopeless.

“You must flee to the hills. Your family will not survive if you remain.”

The man’s expression became shrewd. “You have enjoyed the hospitality of this land. You are obligated to assist against our enemies.”

“My assistance is this advice. Flee while you can.”

“Why do they come to my lands? Are you what they seek?” Rapha’s hesitation confirmed the man’s suspicions. “Either assist us or I will lead them to you.” The dark eyes were hard as flint. “I know what you are. The only reason a descendant of the gods would travel thus, with only one wife and no possessions, is because you have stolen something of great value.”

Rapha stood and the man’s eyes widened as he beheld Rapha’s height and girth. The man was smart and would not hesitate to be cruel if it would ensure the safety of his family and possessions, especially the latter. “I have a daughter, lovely and tender in years. She is yours, along with seven camels, if you assist us.” When Rapha seemed to be considering the offer the man continued, “or my youngest son, if you prefer,” the shrewd eyes glinted as he assessed Rapha’s reaction.

Rapha shrugged and took a step forward but his eyes were fixed on the camel. He reached for the bridle and lifted the animal’s head as if for inspection.

“Yes!” The man adjusted his proposition, “You drive a hard bargain. The boy, the girl and the camels—” But his words were cut short as the animal turned tail and streaked away as fast as his long, loping legs would carry him while the man flung himself forward and held on for dear life.

Rapha felt remorse for the terror he had injected into the beast’s mind. He knew the camel would not pause until he collapsed, trembling, at his customary shelter, but it could not be helped.

He turned to find Eve already prepared, the sleeping baby wrapped securely to her chest, her few possessions on her back. Moments later they were on the move and nightfall found them miles away in a mountain cave.

The next day dark smoke rose from the valley floor and the scent of death was carried on the wind.


Horror ran rampant in the land. Daily the ravens brought news of death and destruction. Even Rapha found the reports unbelievable—of men as tall as trees who possessed an insatiable appetite for conquest. But when their party of three came upon the remains of these conquests the truth was confirmed. Protective ramparts were ripped from their foundations, men were impaled and burned and any remainders of livestock were simply skin and bones, as if the marauders had devoured them alive. There were some traces of women and children among the ruins, usually victims of unmentionable horrors, but most had vanished. And all around these scenes of destruction were prints from feet twice as large as Rapha’s. It appeared Lucifer’s new breeding program flourished.

Rapha was of the firm opinion those already dead were the more fortunate.

These events made it more imperative than ever to avoid human association since even normal-sized men viewed Rapha with murder in their eyes, assuming with one look that he was in league with the aggressors. So their lives became even more isolated. Rapha taught Eve and the child the art of blending with their surroundings, an art he owed in great part to Kal. Their cloaks were woven of nature’s hues—mottled gray, muted green, and shades of brown—which enabled them to pass under the sun like drifting shadows, and the coverings for their feet left almost indiscernible tracks. In fact, when the young one stepped through soft earth, he learned to leap lightly on his toes as Rapha had taught him, so his imprint more closely resembled a small hoof.

They even developed their own method of communicating with their hands. It was useful not only when they did not want to frighten a wary animal but it also came in handy when they needed to evade humans.

Their primary dwelling was a well-hidden cavern where sunlight shone through a high cleft and plentiful water flowed. When the weather was too hot or too cold the cavern provided protection from the elements and a fairly temperate clime. In this sanctuary, Eve and Rapha coaxed many species of food-bearing plants to thrive but they also tended small gardens not far from the entrance to their dwelling, making sure their fruit trees, vegetables, or plots of grain were intermingled and thus would appear as random growths to anyone who stumbled into their domain.

Once in a while Rapha and Eve would bemoan the child’s lack of society but Rafe, as they dubbed him, knew no other company but theirs, and therefore he was content. If the child desired other company, that need was met by the animals that often gathered around him with ready trust and affection.

Even at a tender age, Rafe was a marvel within the animal kingdom. He was gentle, and, through careful observation and Rapha’s expert guidance, he had learned to gauge the creatures’ moods and mimic their methods of communication. Rapha and Eve soon stopped worrying about these interactions since Rafe had demonstrated the ability to disarm the most distrustful of animals—from the venomous vipers to the hungry mountain cats. Also, due to his size (by the age of seven he was as tall as most human men) none dared to consider him prey. Thus their main directive for the boy when he went out to explore was, “Do not be seen.”

Usually this was a simple accomplishment since their dwellings were so remote, but Rafe insisted that when humans were near, “everything tells me it is so. I can smell them on the wind, the animals are quiet and their ears point toward the danger.” Although large in size, Rafe possessed amazing agility and stealth. Sometimes even Rapha’s keen eyes blinked in wonder when the boy seemed to melt from sight, blending in with the tall trunks of trees and the swaying shadows.

Once when Rapha went out of doors to retrieve the boy for the night, he searched in all Rafe’s usual haunts but found no trace. When he finally returned to their cavern entrance, wondering how he would inform Eve that the child was lost, his attention was drawn to a bush that quivered although no wind stirred—a bush, tall and wide, where no bush usually grew. Even then, the guise was convincing, but Rapha reached out with his thoughts, probing the mysterious phenomenon.

Ah! Rafe had learned to shroud his mind as well as his body. Later, Rapha would rave to Eve, “He is truly gifted! Not even eight full cycles of the seasons from birth yet even Adam did not possess such unity with creation!”

But for the moment, Rapha had to correct the misuse of this ability. “Rafe!” he commanded, “Your talents must never be used selfishly. Come out!”

Slowly, the overhanging branches of the tree snapped back into place and Rafe unwrapped the dark cloak from his legs. The boy’s expression was meek, but mischievous sparks lit his dark eyes, eyes that reminded Rapha of Sheatiel. Despite himself, Rapha felt a proud smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Rafe, always intuitive, read the forgiveness in his father’s eyes, “I’m sorry, father, but,” he strode forward brushing a hand through his thick mop of curly dark hair, another trait inherited from his mother, “I did it! I finally fooled you! Nothing ever fools you! I watched the trees and I thought like the trees, and I felt the breeze like the trees….”

On and on the man-sized child enthused as love warmed Rapha’s heart. The boy treasured creation. It was a part of his soul. He loved the simple delights of beauty and peace. These gifts would enrich him throughout his lifetime and, someday… would he have children to teach those same values?

So they enjoyed a contrived peace. Rapha and Eve invested the best of themselves in the offspring of Cain, and their own friendship flourished, never replacing the loves they had known, but forging a formidable team nonetheless.

But in a world slipping into madness, this momentary respite could not last. When Rafe was only nine years old, chaos severed their patched home.

Perhaps Rapha had become lax in his vigilance; trusting in their hidden stronghold and his family’s ability to melt into nature. But, looking back, Rapha was assured that Adonai had directed even the horror of that fateful day.

It was the cries of a child that drew them. In the late afternoon of a day heavy with oppressive heat, a child’s terrified screams reached their ears.

Rapha could sooner have held back the ocean’s waves than prevent Eve and Rafe from responding to that cry. It was one thing to ignore evil running rampant far away but quite another matter when suffering was on one’s doorstep. Even as the words, “We must be cautious,” were on his lips, the others were rushing toward the cries, keeping to the shadows but determined to reach the child without delay. As they drew closer to the source of the sound Rapha smelled Lucifer’s calling cards—fear and human blood. Marauders were close, their cruel thoughts filling Rapha’s mind. They were searching for the child. Their heavy footsteps and harsh voices echoed as they sought a way down to where the child had fallen. Fallen?!

Rapha sensed another with thoughts centered on the child, her mother, but the woman’s frantic desire was that the child not be found. “I hear you, love. You’re alive. Run! Please run!” The mother’s heart begged.

Then they saw her in the fading light, a small girl, not far from the age of suckling, with bloodied hands and gashed legs that peeked from beneath a torn, muddy garment. The cause of her screams was obvious. She had apparently tumbled into a patch of mountain nettles. With a gasp of maternal sympathy, Eve rushed forward murmuring endearments and assurances, and soon returned to the shadows with the crying child nestled in her arms. However, when the girl beheld Rapha and Rafe, terror filled her eyes and she screamed as visions of horror filled her young mind and pummeled Rapha’s.

Big men. Auda screaming. Da drug away. Heat. Stink. Scared.

As Eve tried to calm her, Rapha found the antidote that grew nearby. He spread the sticky sap on a strip of cloth, then applied the cloth to the nettles in her knees and hands. When he pulled the material away, the child’s cries ceased and she looked at Rapha, then down at her knee, in astonishment.

“That’s right,” he spoke soothingly, “let us take you where it’s safe and we can doctor your wounds.”

Like an abused animal responding to kindness, the child reached toward Rapha. He took her in his arms and she clung to him as they moved through the shadows, an ever-growing threat pushing him to move as quickly as possible even as the girl hid her small face in his shoulder and her heart pounded against his chest.

Once more he felt it, that sorcerous push against his mind that had haunted them in the caves. That same intent now followed their trail. Rapha’s thoughts became confused and his breath came in gasps as he wrestled, attempting to shroud those who ran with him from this piercing hunter.

“Rapha?” Eve gasped. “It’s hard to breathe.”

“Yes, I feel it.”

“It… knows me,” she added.

“I can hide us,” Rafe suggested.

“Quiet,” Rapha admonished. Their predator’s thoughts had fixed on them with renewed intensity when they spoke. Rapha moved faster but soon the crash of pursuit could be heard.

Suddenly Eve gasped and her footsteps faltered.

“What?”

“Cain. I saw Cain.”

“It is a lie. They are coming,” Rapha hissed.

“I must go to him. It is Adonai’s plan.”

“No! I am commanded to protect you!”

But Eve looked at Rapha with that stubborn, immovable expression, “I am certain. They would catch us soon. You know it. This way the rest of you will have a chance. Go!”

The crashes and harsh voices were upon them and the child buried her face in Rapha’s neck, whimpering, her tiny body shivering with fright.

“Take the children to safety. Please!”

As he looked into Eve’s eyes, Rapha discovered the pure peace of Adonai.


“I will preserve her. Trust her to My hand.”


“Come!” Rapha grasped Rafe’s arm and propelled the bewildered boy ahead.

“No! We can’t!” Rafe protested.

“Hurry. It is Adonai’s command.”

“No!”

“Be still deep inside. Hear Him for yourself.”

Rafe’s face flushed with anger and he pushed toward Eve.

“Rafe,” Eve’s quiet voice addressed him, “I am in Adonai’s hands. You must help Rapha protect her.”

The little girl reached toward Rafe and he lifted her from Rapha’s arms. With solemn eyes she reached to wipe the moisture from Rafe’s face.

“Now go!” Eve urged.

So they stumbled ahead, their feet heavy with grief. It was only a moment until triumphant shouts resounded on the path behind them.


Rapha kept track of the marauding party that had settled a few miles away like locusts to devour whatever was good in that land. Daily he sent birds to gather news from their camp since he did not trust his attempts to hear Eve’s thoughts, now warped somehow, as if by a net of confusion. Little could be gleaned of Eve’s fate other than brief sightings by the ravens—who reported she appeared unharmed, and was usually surrounded by women and children who, like her, were captives.

On the seventh morning since Eve’s capture a raven’s caw woke Rapha from sleep. He moved with care so as not to disturb the child they called Auda (the only word she would say) who insisted on pressing her small back against his and wrapping herself in layers of bedclothes even when she slept in a puddle of sweat.

Eve’s message through the bird was short and direct, “I am safe. Stay away. Cain is here. He sought Sheatiel. She is dead. His search is over.”

He probed the bird for more information, gleaning the fact that Eve was well fed and unwounded. Also, the raven, bold when food could be obtained, had entered Cain’s tent to pick at the leavings of a feast and had spied Cain drinking heavily of the fruit of the vine with his head in his hands.

“So,” Rapha mused aloud, “lordship is not all Cain had anticipated.”

For his part, the raven could not understand the concept of low spirits when one had plentiful food. Speaking of food, having delivered his message, the raven was eager to seek his breakfast, so he cocked his glossy, black head and gave another insistent caw.

Rapha pointed toward a patch of ripe melons. “Help yourself, brother raven. And thank you.”

He stepped away from the cavern entrance to savor his relief free from the noise of the bird’s meal.

The eastern sky began to burn with the fast-approaching day. Rapha smiled as the weight on his shoulders lifted. When the children woke he would greet them with a lighter heart and perhaps take them to fish at his favorite stream. With Adonai’s help he would delight in those who remained.

In the coming days, Rafe’s gentleness was further enhanced by the tenderness he showed Auda. Other than that one word, she never spoke of her former life. But Rapha perceived the slaughter of her family, all but her mother, who was a recurring player in Auda’s violent dreams of a beautiful, blonde woman surrounded by leering men.

Caring for Auda required all the finesse of handling a poisonous viper. Even if they woke in the night to the sound of her cries, they quickly learned to avoid her clawing fingers and biting teeth. But in spite of her fiery temperament, a keen intelligence flashed in the depths of her blue eyes, eyes Rafe said reminded him of the color of peacock feathers.

How they missed Eve. Though Rafe and Rapha were able to supply bountiful food, something more than sustenance was needed. They tried to duplicate her homey touches—fresh flowers and sweet-smelling herbs—but now those things were only ghosts of Eve’s presence.

Rafe insisted they should rescue Eve. For the first time the boy became belligerent and disrespectful toward Rapha, even accusing him of cowardice since he had not fought the men who took her.

“She wanted to go,” Rapha said yet again.

“Of course she did! She didn’t want us hurt, but we could have trapped them when they passed through the canyon.”

“And what would have become of her, if we had been captured or slain?” Rapha indicated the small figure with yellow curls who slept wrapped in Eve’s heavy cloak. This brought a momentary end to the argument.

In truth, Rapha second-guessed his own actions. How he desired his secluded mountain cave where he could seek Adonai without distraction, but his responsibilities demanded he stay close to Auda, who became terrified when he was out of her sight, and to Rafe, who entertained thoughts of daring rescue even in his dreams.

In quiet moments Rapha would reach toward Eve with his thoughts but these attempts were still unsuccessful as if she had entered a realm blocked from his perception. So he had to continue relying on his winged friends for news.


On the tenth morning since Eve’s capture, their raven messenger woke Rapha with news. Eve was close by and requesting a meeting.

“Is she alone?” Rapha asked.

The bird gave no indication of danger.

“When is the meeting?” Rafe, stealthy as always, was at his side and had intercepted the communication.

“Now.”

“But Auda still sleeps.”

“Good. I will try to return before she wakes.”

“But….” Rafe started to protest.

“Ssssh. If all is well, I will send for you,” Rapha assured the boy.

As he was exiting the cave, Rafe stopped him. “In case I don’t get to see her, please give her this for me.” Rafe laid a hand on his shoulder and a scene played out in Rapha’s mind.


Eve and a much younger Rafe, perhaps four years old, chased each other through a forest carpeted with falling leaves. Over and over they fell onto the golden piles and she would tickle Rafe as he shrieked with delight.


When Rafe pulled his hand away they were both crying. “It was the best way I could think of to send her my love.” When Rapha reached for him, the boy’s shoulders shook with quiet sobs.


Eve was waiting for him in a glade at the foot of the mountain. When he saw the dark circles under her eyes and the sadness in her face, Rapha wanted nothing more than to toss her over his shoulder and escape.

“Have they hurt you?”

“Oh no. It is known whose mother I am. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Have you seen Cain?”

“Yes.”

“How is he?”

“Miserable. But he is powerful, feared, honored… everything he desired,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Listen,” she hurried on, “I have news and I have only a short time.” Her face crumpled with grief and she struggled to continue. “The child’s mother, Lael, is… has… she took her own life.”

“Were you able to tell her her daughter is safe?”

“Yes,” Eve answered, “it was the only time she smiled. But the fear for her child was all she lived for. Once that fear was gone, she stopped living.” Eve shut her eyes tight. “I couldn’t blame her. The things the men did… oh, Rapha, the way they used her.” Eve’s face flushed and she jumped to her feet, tears shedding unheeded as she paced.

“I am glad she killed the last one to use her! Adonai help me, I am! She rose as he slept, found his blade, slew him, and then… turned it on herself.” Eve fell to her knees, “Oh Adonai! How has Your creation come to this?” The rage and sadness warred across Eve’s face but after a moment’s despair she leapt to her feet to pace again.

“I took her body to Cain. I screamed at him, of what I thought of his kingdom, of his… these savages he calls warriors.

“‘You should die for speaking to me this way,’ he said, and I dared him to do it. I called him a coward and a murderer and begged him to kill me since I could not bear what he has become.” Her tirade of words stopped and she wilted to the ground.

“That’s when I saw it, Rapha. For one short moment, the Cain I love was looking out of those eyes. He is lost. He is tortured. I want to hate him but… he is my son,” she wiped her sleeve across her face. “He agreed that I could come see you but I made him promise to release the other women and children when I return. He knows I cannot abandon them. I pray there is enough honor in him to keep his word on this.”

“Is it safe to send for Rafe and Auda?”

“Is that what you call her? Good. That is what she called her mother. No. I do not trust Cain enough to endanger them.” Again tears flowed down Eve’s cheeks. “Hug Rafe for me. Tell him he filled the longing of my heart. Tell him I will always love him, and I lift his name before Adonai.”

When Rapha presented Eve with the memory Rafe had sent, she sobbed. “Please don’t tell him it made me cry. I will treasure it. I will treasure every memory spent with both of you.”

With one last embrace, she ran in the direction of the warrior’s camp.